


When the Spell Breaks (the Cradle will Fall)

by Singofsolace



Series: agony and ecstasy in motion [1]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Rape Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 23:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19283491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: The Caligari spell breaks. Despite being traumatized by her ordeal, Zelda plans to return to Faustus at the Academy of Unseen Arts to help save Ambrose from execution. Hilda has a different plan, though she knows her sister might just kill her for it.





	When the Spell Breaks (the Cradle will Fall)

“It was torture, being conscious while Faustus made me dance to his infernal tune.”

 _Torture_. She hoped her niece and sister would think the word was an exaggeration, but Hilda was looking at her with a pained expression, as if she were imagining just what _kind_ of torture Zelda meant. She would rather not speak any further on the subject, and just forget it all—drink herself into oblivion and pass out right there in the kitchen—but there was still the matter of her nephew’s wrongful imprisonment to be attended to.

She took a long drag on her cigarette before chasing the nicotine with scotch. The alcohol burned her throat, but she hardly felt it.

 “But are you saying you were aware?” Sabrina’s eyes were wide with shock. 

“Every second. And yet unable to make my own choices.” The indignity of it all had her fingers twitching to cast the spells she couldn’t perform while she was under Faustus’ control. Nausea and hunger were at war inside her. She’d eaten hardly anything since her wedding night; she could only do what was commanded of her, and Faustus scarcely seemed concerned with ordering her to eat.

Zelda shifted in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Her body ached in ways she hardly wanted to think about. The lashes on her back made her skin feel tight and itchy. At least the alcohol was going very quickly to her head, numbing everything as it coursed through her veins. Zelda knew she should’ve put something in her stomach before she started drinking, but even the _thought_ of food made her nauseous. The acidic scent of squeezed lime still clung to her fingers, and she hardly thought she’d be able to look at meat again after grinding poor Leviathan into pieces.

“It’s diabolical, and not in the good way,” Zelda continued, taking a moment to savor the simple freedom of speaking in her own voice once more.

It was good to be home, surrounded by her true family, and free of the torturous spell, but her relief was tempered by the thought that she would soon have to return to the Academy, where her husband was sure to be awaiting her arrival.

Hilda and Sabrina’s expectant faces weren’t helping matters. All Zelda wanted to do was curl up in her bed—blissfully alone, far from her husband’s touch—but they seemed desperate to hear a story she had no interest in telling. Hilda kept looking at her like she would shatter at any moment, and it was really starting to get under her skin.

Hilda, for her part, thought she was taking it all in stride. Discovering your new brother-in-law had placed your sister under an obedience spell during her honeymoon wasn’t an everyday occurrence, after all.

“At least you…you’re back. You’re back and whole, that’s what matters,” said Hilda, but even as the words passed her lips, she knew how little truth there might be to them. Her sister hadn’t shared very much about her ordeal, and from the way Zelda was still holding herself so stiffly in her floral dress, Hilda suspected that there was a great deal that had remained unspoken.

Hilda had always had a gift for reading people. She was semi-telepathic, when she chose to be. Reading other people’s thoughts and emotions required an enormous amount of energy. Often people became upset with her when she did it without their permission, so she tended to only exercise her powers when it was absolutely necessary. Zelda was both the easiest and most difficult person for her to read, because the closer the relationship Hilda had to someone, the stronger her ability became to establish a link to their mind, but Zelda was loath to allow her sister to freely sift through her thoughts. It was only when Zelda’s guard was down that Hilda could get past the protection spells Zelda put in place to keep her mind safe from magical influence.

As it was, Zelda had cast a protective shield around her mind the moment the Caligari spell was broken. Hilda couldn’t blame her—she would do the same, in her place—but what was worrying Hilda the most was that the shield was weaker than any her sister had cast before, and it hadn’t even recognized Hilda’s telepathic presence as a threat. If Hilda wanted to, she could shatter it with a single well-chosen spell. While Zelda’s thoughts remained behind a hazy scrim, her emotions were easily accessed through their empathic connection.

_Pain. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Guilt. Shame._

It was hard to stay focused on the conversation with these waves of emotion breaking across their telepathic bond. Hilda felt her own variety of shame that she was invading her sister’s privacy by using the link. Zelda wasn’t a skilled telepath; it was likely her sister didn’t even realize that she was allowing Hilda to have this access at all.

Best to focus on verbal communication instead. Hilda took a steadying breath and said, “We’re our own council, aren’t we? The three of us. So, I mean, if all eyes are on Sabrina—well, leave it to us, eh, Zelds?”

Hilda was relieved when Zelda’s warm gaze settled upon her as she hummed in response.

“Yes. Well, you’ll have to do the lion’s share, Hilda. In the meantime, I’m afraid I’ll have to go back to the Academy and being the biddable wife so as not to arouse Faustus’s suspicions.” Zelda felt her stomach pitch and roll at the thought of being back under Faustus’s control, even if it was all an act. She took a large, bracing sip of her drink, focusing intently on the way it seared the back of her throat in order to ignore every other part of her that hurt. “You’ll have to return the music box, Sabrina.”

When the music box had vanished, Zelda downed the rest of her drink, and stood from the table. Hilda flinched internally as she felt a wave of pain that wasn’t her own crash over her. Was Zelda _injured?_ There would have to be major damage for Hilda to receive such a strong, unintentional message. The idea of Faustus hurting her sister while they were in Italy was unbearable. Hilda could _not_ allow her to go back to him. Not tonight, not _ever_. Not when the Caligari spell could be so easily cast again.

“The things I do for this family,” said Zelda, holding the bloodied paper bag up and flipping a lock of hair over her shoulder.

Hilda suddenly realized that this was the last opportunity she might have to speak to her sister freely, and followed directly behind her as Zelda moved to leave.  

“Zelda?” she said, stopping her sister before she reached the front door. “Could I speak to you? In private?”

Sabrina, who had followed them both to the foyer, sighed in indignation.

“Really, Hilda, there’s no time. Faustus is expecting me—”

“That’s what I wanted to—to talk to you about,” Hilda said, flickering her gaze back to Sabrina, who had remained stubbornly in the same spot.

Zelda shifted uneasily on her feet. She didn’t have the energy to fight, and really, deep down, she was in no hurry to go back to the Academy. Surely, she could come up with an elaborate excuse for why it had taken her so long to complete the task, if only to have a few more minutes of freedom? But if Hilda wanted more information, she wasn’t sure she was in the state of mind to provide it. She would much rather bury it all deep in the depths of her psyche. She had always had a talent for compartmentalizing trauma.

Ultimately, it was the press of Hilda’s mind against her own that shocked her into a decision. Hilda hadn’t dared to force her way into her mind in _decades_. While she knew Hilda wouldn’t go so far as to break her protection spell, it sent a chill up her spine to know that Hilda was, nevertheless, brushing up against it. She didn’t think she could handle a second violation of her mind in so short a time. It would be far better to tell her sister what she wanted to know than to have the information stolen from her.

Casting one last meaningful glance towards Sabrina, who looked ready to demand she be included in the conversation, Zelda turned to Hilda and said, “Fine. Will you transfer us to our—I mean _your_ —bedroom? I’m too tired to climb the stairs, and if I am staying any longer, I need to take off these blessed shoes.”

Hilda complied immediately. In the blink of an eye, they reappeared in the bedroom that they had shared for most of their lives. Zelda was quick to place the brown bag on the vanity, before kicking off her heels with such vigor, it would’ve been comical if Hilda weren’t so worried.

“What is it, Sister? Surely, you realize this delay is dangerous?” said Zelda, turning the chair at her vanity to face Hilda’s bed before sitting down.

“I want to perform a diagnostic spell on you,” said Hilda, rather more bluntly than she intended.

“Why on earth would you do that?” said Zelda, trying to keep her growing anxiety out of her voice.

“Because I trust Faustus about as far as I can throw him, and you look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m fine, Hilda. Now, are we done here?” she said, forcing herself to stand without giving away how much the movement hurt. She walked towards the door, quite forgetting she was barefoot, but Hilda blocked her path before she could leave.

“If you’re fine, why won’t you let me do it? The spell would just confirm what you say, and it’d give me some peace of mind.”

“I don’t have _time_ for you to practice your spells for no reason, Hilda,” Zelda said, moving to push past her sister, but Hilda grabbed her just above the elbow to keep her in place. Zelda hissed as white-hot pain shot up her arm.

Hilda noticed Zelda’s pained reaction and immediately let go. “Satan! If you’d just told me—I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Sister.” Hilda reached out to take Zelda’s hand instead, directing her firmly but gently towards her old bed. “I’m performing the spell whether you like it or not, Zelds. Sit.”

Zelda sat, wincing as she did. Clearly, there was no use hiding it anymore. “Hilda—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me again—”

“I won’t,” said Zelda, quietly.

That gave Hilda pause. She expected Zelda to continue fighting and denying everything. This sudden capitulation scared her more than anything else, since it was so out of character for her sister to give in. “Well—um—good.”

“But Hilda, you have to promise me…” Zelda’s voice trailed off.

Hilda waited for her sister to continue, but the words didn’t come. “Promise you what, Zelds?”

“That you won’t share what you find with anyone…” Zelda closed her eyes, “ _especially_ Sabrina.”

“I promise,” said Hilda, not wanting to think about what would necessitate such a promise. “Now, since you hate this dress so much, why don’t we get you out of it, so I can see what I’m doing, hmm?”

Zelda took a deep breath before nodding. Whether or not she wanted help, her sister was going to give it. She just hoped this wouldn’t change how Hilda looked at her.

“Would you like to take the dress off, or shall I?” said Hilda patiently.

Zelda paused a moment, as if in deliberation, before waving her hand resignedly to remove the dress with magic.

Hilda gasped at the sight of her sister’s body. It was completely covered with marks. Bruises, burns, lacerations… there was hardly an untouched area of skin. Hilda was struck by the knowledge that Zelda must have been wearing a glamour spell earlier, because there were nasty marks on her wrists, forearms, and neck, which definitely weren’t visible only moments ago.

Zelda felt a shiver race up her spine. She hated being so exposed. Even though she still wore her lingerie, it felt like she was completely naked under her sister’s intense, horrified gaze.

It was humiliating.

“Zelds,” Hilda sucked in a shaky breath. “What _happened_ to you?”

“I thought you were going to perform a diagnostic spell?” said Zelda, her voice eerily detached.

“I was—I _am_ —I just…” Hilda’s eyes were drawn to what looked to be a vicious bite mark on her left thigh.

“It’s rude to stare,” said Zelda tiredly. Her body wasn’t some exhibit in a mortal zoo, no matter how much the Caligari spell had made her feel like she was constantly on display.

Hilda shut her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, she was much calmer. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Zelda groaned at the motion. There were lashes on her back that had only just begun to heal.

Once Zelda was flat on her back, Hilda began whispering in Latin. She tried to remain objective as the results flooded into her mind. This was just a patient, not her sister. She couldn’t afford to dwell on what could possibly have caused these injuries. She had to focus on identifying the most critical injuries and healing them in order of severity.

Hilda had seen plenty of women’s bodies over her centuries as a midwife. Very little could make her squeamish or uncomfortable, when it came to the female form. But when she realized that several of her sister’s worst injuries were internal, in private places, she felt so sick to her stomach, she needed to pause a moment to get her heart rate back under control.

“Hilda? Are you alright?” said Zelda, reaching out a tentative hand.

Hilda took it in her own, giving it a quick squeeze. It was just like Zelda to ask if _she_ was okay.

“I need to summon some supplies. These injuries are…extensive,” she said, waving her other hand so that a vast number of bottled potions appeared on the nightstand.

“It _was_ my honeymoon, after all,” said Zelda, her voice sounding as if it came from very far away.

Hilda let go of Zelda’s hand to pick up one of the bottles. She warred with herself for only a moment before she opened it and handed it to her sister with a purposefully blank expression. “This is for the pain. Drink it all. I don’t want you to be hurting while I heal you.”

Zelda downed the whole bottle like it was a shot of vodka. Hilda was vaguely impressed, but also worried that Zelda was in enough pain to necessitate it.

“You can’t heal all of it. Faustus will notice if the injuries have all mysteriously disappeared.”

Hilda cursed loudly. Zelda was shocked by the hatred rolling off of her sister in waves.

“You’re not going back to the Academy, Zelda,” Hilda said, gritting her teeth. “Not like this.”

“I _have_ to go back,” insisted Zelda, her tone sharp. Her face said that Hilda ought to consider the subject closed. “My nephew needs me.”

“Do you think Ambrose would ever choose for you to endure _this_ ,” Hilda waved a hand to indicate Zelda’s battered body, “for him?”

Zelda’s eyes started to burn, but she blinked rapidly until the sensation subsided. “Faustus and I have always been…violent…with each other. I can handle it.”

Hilda bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding to _that_ as she took another potion into her hand and cast a powerful healing spell, directing the energy specifically to the worst of her sister’s internal injuries. Zelda flinched a bit as the spell moved inside of her; even with a potion to numb the pain, the nature of her injuries made the healing process very uncomfortable.

“Are you saying…” said Hilda eventually, swallowing around the lump in her throat, “That he’s—he’s done… _this_ …to you before?”

“No. Well—some of it, yes,” said Zelda, shivering as Hilda rubbed lotion into the bruises on her wrists. It felt far more intimate than she would like, allowing her sister to press her thumbs into her pulse points. It was almost suffocating, to think of how helpless and open to attack she was at this moment. She trusted Hilda implicitly, but it was never safe for a witch to be as weak as she was permitting herself to be right now. “The Caligari spell…that was new, and made absolutely everything, sexual or otherwise, unbearable. I couldn’t tell him to stop when it got to be too much, and I wasn’t able to refuse any of his more…creative punishments. I’m not the masochist many have made me out to be.”

“I’m going to kill him,” said Hilda, her voice colder than Zelda had ever heard it as she rubbed the healing balm into the bruises that formed a circle around her neck. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“I can’t feel a thing. Your potion was a bit heavy-handed, I think. What in heaven’s name did you give me?”

Hilda didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Would you turn onto your stomach so I can heal your back?”

Zelda shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not necessary.”

 “It _is_ necessary if he whipped you.”

“I disagree,” said Zelda. “Knowing Faustus, he’ll want to reward me for killing the familiar. What’s the point in healing my back if he’s just going to open up all the wounds again?”

Hilda felt rage and no small amount of fear at the idea that her sister was still planning on walking right back into an abusive situation. She didn’t want to show her hand just yet, however, so she said, “You think he’s going to want to… _do things_ with you before Ambrose’s trial?”

 Zelda looked away, making a point to stare at the ceiling. “He’s been insatiable since the wedding.”

Hilda felt such an acute wave of nausea that she put a hand to her mouth before she said, “Turn over, Zelda.”

 Zelda resisted a moment longer before turning onto her stomach. Even though Hilda had prepared herself for the sight, she was still dismayed by the utter brutality that Faustus had visited upon her sister. She had seen the marks Zelda was wont to give herself; they were nothing like this. These wounds were deeper and far greater in number. Even with magic, Hilda was fairly certain her sister would still bear the scars.

“Hilda?” Zelda whispered, her voice thick with fatigue. “My body is getting heavier and my vision is going dark. What… _what_ did you give me to drink?”

“I’m sorry, Zelda,” she said before tracing each wound in her sister’s back with her healing touch. “I told you: I’m not letting you go back to the Academy.”

Hilda felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as her sister made a sound like a wounded animal before sinking into a dreamless sleep. Zelda would never forgive her for this betrayal of her trust, but Hilda hoped one day she would at least understand why she did it.

Once Hilda had finished healing the worst injuries, she magicked Zelda into a nightgown and tucked her beneath the covers. She wove spell after spell in a cocoon around her to keep Zelda protected from any harm until she could return.

Tomorrow, she would face her sister’s wrath.

Tonight, she had an interim antipope to murder.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was heavy to write. please let me know what you think, and whether or not I should make this the first installment in a series.


End file.
